Harry Potter and the Keyblade Master
by eatxyourxcabbage
Summary: Sora is sick of searching for Kairi and dealing with grumpy Donald and slow Goofy. A new world brings him to a place he could have never believed to be real.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I forgot a disclaimer. Sue me.

Harry Potter, Kingdom Hearts and whatever characters I decide to throw in here do not belong to me. Respecting copyrights blahblahblahblah.

Read and Review with constructive criticism would be so great, if you've got the time.

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Sora winced. Ever since he was a child, he would hear thunderous claps of sound in his head. A drilling, repetitive sound would induce a migraine during the first hours of dawn. Having to wake up to loud, cranky Donald and oblivious Goofy was growing tiresome. When would this mission end?

Searching for keyholes in distant lands with idiotic comrades! It was taking a toll on his moods. Puberty wasn't helping him…and Kairi? Here was Sora, searching for her, while for all he knew, Kairi was doing nothing.

Sora sat in Merlin's tent, thinking. As his eyes scanned the nearby shelves, a mysterious, leather bound spine caught his eye. Careful not to disturb Donald and Goofy from slumber, Sora stood. Magnetized by the piece, Sora took the book from it's home and opened the cover. Glitter began to breeze through the pages as a curious light shone through the leather. The thunder that had been so striking to his temples had ceased. As an experiment of sorts, Sora closed the book. The throbbing noise began to tear through his brain again. The boy threw the book open again.

The book seemed to whisper to him. Sora reached out, taking the Oathkeeper from the keyblade stand, and struck at the creamy pages. A familiar feeling was surging through him, the world closing in on him. Suffocating him until he could breathe in fresh, newer air…

"Welcome to Hogwarts!"

An old man stood, wand betwixt his fingers. His voice carried through the massive hall, wisdom emanating from the deep roots of his vocal chords. Sora spun around, suddenly realizing that people surrounded him. The thunder in his temples was blasting again…but when he found the curiously friendly stair of a dark haired boy, it diminished. '_His scar…it is so unsettling…_Sora thought to himself.

As soon as Harry Potter locked eyes with Sora, he knew the boy was the missing piece to the Chosen Ones. Harry Potter, Frodo Baggins and now this boy…but where could his comrades be? Ron, Hermione and Samwise were growing bored with one another, and as each day passed, Ron became more contentious, Hermione became more irritable, and Samwise became heavier from all of the po-ta-toes he was eating.

Harry stuffed a chocolate frog in his mouth, furiously chewing. A pair of redheaded twins were lazily throwing hexes and jests at each other, thin, splintered wands in their hands. A girl of younger age, perhaps a sister of the twins (the same fine, red hair and freckly faced smile) sat beside them in quiet glee. It had been a year after the Chamber of Secrets had closed, and all seemed to have healed.

But the idea of a final prophetic boy was maddening to Harry! The room had silenced, and Harry's thoughts trickled to a stop as Dumbledore began his speech.

"Welcome, all of you…I hope that everyone is happy with the Sorting…" Dumbledore began, his twinkling eyes peering around the room before focusing on Sora. The boy's face reddened as the wise wizard started to laugh. Sora gripped his keyblade tightly. Although the laugh was gentle, and certainly not unkind…Sora was still embarrassed. What was Sorting anyway?!

"It seems that I am quite mistaken…we cannot start the opening feast until all students have been sorted. Step up, boy! Tell me your name, and you shall be put into the best of houses for you," said Dumbledore kindly, swishing his wand.

As Sora walked toward him, watching in awe as an old, weathered hat glided through the air. His pace quickened as whispers rose around him like snakes, curling and sliding all over his arms like slime. The words seemed to strike him more than a Heartless would!

"Look at his feet…they're massive!"

"Blimey, Harry, look at him…he dresses stranger than those Durmstrang blokes…"

"I am Cedric Diggory, I die in the next book!"

"Fresh meat, good for hexes if he's in Slytherin, eh George?"

"That prat looks like he belongs in Gryffindor, doesn't he Crabbe? If he is, he's newest victim for our target practice."

Sora had finally reached the elderly wizard, sitting in the chair that was offered to him. An odd sort of hat collapsed around his head, shrouding most of his face from view. It began to speak to Sora, the voice hoarse and crackly. _Is that in my mind, or is it out loud? Am I going mad? What sort of world am I in now?_

"Gryffindor, my boy. You would do well, what with your bravery and loyalty…"

"_No!_" Sora thought angrily. Where that blonde boy and those two large comrades had been speaking about making him a victim? Not for Sora, not when he wanted a damned break.

"You dare to underestimate my sorting?"

…_Yes._

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat called out with deafening noise and a hint of angry pride. The table cloaked with students dressed in emerald green hues stood and clapped. As the Sorting Hat had been lifted from Sora's head, he thought to have seen Dumbledore give Snape a bewildered look, before recollecting his thoughts.

Sora stood, moving at quick speed to join his new friends. Looking around for an open seat, the spiky haired boy saw a part in the sea of people next to the blonde boy who was threatening him moments ago. He was quite attractive, Sora had noticed, with wide eyes filled with a gleam of mischief; pale, flawless complexion; and a chiseled jawline. The teenager stuck his hand out, confidence apparent in his voice, much like the sound of rain flowing from a gutter. "The name is Draco. Draco Malfoy, part of the prestigious line of Purebloods," he said to Sora.

Sora wrinkled his nose in thought before extending his own hand to grip Malfoy's. His hand was calloused from fighting Heartless, yet Malfoy's felt as if it had been soaked with rich, buttery lotion and dried with silk.

"My name is Sora…I am the Keyblade master," he replied.

"Quite the wand, Sora," Draco mused, staring at Oathkeeper.

The new student nodded and began to respond, but was quickly hushed into silence as Dumbledore finished his speech. Afterward, all of the students began to eat the spread that was before them. Sora had never seen so much food, or such a variety for one meal. He ate the most delicious leg of chicken he had ever tasted, and reached for a glass of orange-tinted juice. It smelled of nutmeg, cinnamon and other spices as he lifted it to his nose.

"Before we drink, I propose a toast," Draco said. It was clear that he was the leader of the table, for all who were about to take sips of their pumpkin juice halted at once.

Draco turned to Sora, a sly smile playing on his lips. "A toast to the new boy, Sora. Although he dresses strangely, and the bloke has transferred from God-knows-where, he is with us now. He has been Sorted to join our table of cunning wisdom and strength. Power to the Slytherins, and congratulations to Sora on his succession of joining not only Hogwarts, but also the best quarter of the school."

The table raised their glasses in unison and drank.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the third week of Sora at Hogwarts, and he could not have felt anymore out of place. While all of the students wore midnight colored robes with a small crest in their class color, Sora wore his baggy shorts, large sneakers and awkward vest-shirt. He enjoyed only two out of his seven classes, and although he made friends with the most popular Slytherin boy, that also meant that he made enemies with all of Gryffindor.

Sora sighed heavily. Why did this world have to be so difficult? This break from the real world was turning out to be less of a vacation than he thought it would be. The sound of footsteps caused Sora's thoughts to pause.

"Hey, Sora."

It was Draco, of course. His lithe body fell into the chair beside Sora, his platinum blonde locks falling into his eyes. Sora gave a brief smile and tapped Oathkeeper on the table, an extra glass of pumpkin juice filling for his friend. That was about the only useful thing that he had learned in the blasted school…

"Evening, Draco," Sora replied wearily, his usually gravity-defying hair flopping.

"Goddamn McGonagall, I'll tell you, she gives us so much bloody homework…" Draco groaned, unrolling a piece of parchment.

"I hate Potions most of all. Snape has something against me, Draco…" Sora trailed off with a frown.

"Taking quite the toll on your hair, isn't it? You're such a bloke, Sora," said Draco with a snicker, beginning on his homework.

Sora feigned a smile and stood, excusing himself for a walk. As he left, the chilly autumn wind hit him square in the face, Hagrid's hut visible in the distance. Sora wondered if he was wrong to have doubted the Sorting Hat's original placement. Everywhere he looked, he saw his peers: cunning as they were, they are also mean-spirited and cruel. Hexes were shot left and right at unsuspecting first-year Gryffindors.

"Watch it, prat," muttered a redheaded as the boys brushed shoulders, his voice coated with resentment.

"Sorry, my fault…not like I meant to," Sora replied.

Ron stopped in his tracks. He whirled around to face the boy, a grimace of disgust displayed on his face. The gangly, freckly boy extracted his wand from a patch-covered pocket, pointing the tip of it in Sora's face.

"Not like you meant to? Please, you are Draco Malfoy's best friend, and a Slytherin. Like I am going to believe you," he retorted.

Sora was livid. He had done nothing wrong, and yet this third-year was blaming him for something that was not even his fault! Sora raised Oathkeeper and cut an arch into the air. Ron was stopped in mid-word, frozen. Merlin had taught Sora some good magic. Sora withdrew Oathkeeper and stuck a moogle in Ron's pants, continuing on his way.

As Sora quickened his pace, he ducked behind a group of trees just in time to hear Ron's shout of anger.

"Damn Slytherin prats!" he screamed, as another creature began to lecture about synthesizing.

The spiky-haired boy grinned, shuffling down the path to the forest. It was such a dark forest, but it looked like a nice place to think. Sora wondered why not many went down there. Suddenly, Sora felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the attractive woods.

"You can't go in there," a throaty voice called out.

"Who's there?!" Sora called, feeling around for the voice.

Harry Potter revealed himself from the Invisibility Cloak with a weak smile.

"Not a safe place in there, you bloke. I'm surprised your Slytherin kin haven't told you that yet," he said.

"I…don't talk to most of them. Only Draco, sometimes Pansy for some company, but that is all," Sora replied coolly.

"I'm Harry," the midnight-haired boy said, extending his hand.

"Sora. And why the face when I mentioned Draco?" asked the boy, shaking Harry's hand firmly.

Harry frowned in thought, as if trying to think of what to say before doing so. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, the backs of his hands slicked with goosebumps.

"Draco and I never got along. Never will. It is good to see that you aren't such a bad Slytherin," Harry said conversationally, chilled from the cold.

Sora quirked a brow, almost allowing himself to chuckle. He noticed the raised bumps on Harry's hand and immediately blasted Firaga with his keyblade in order to warm the new acquaintance.

"I was almost put in Gryffindor, but…I wasn't. Here, why don't we sit? It is cold out," Sora said, not wanting to tell Harry why he wasn't housed in the place of bravery.

"I am from Gryffindor, it's a pity you weren't placed with us. I am certain that all you have conversed with have said something along the lines of this, but Gryffindor is certainly the best house to be in."

Sora let this digest and stared off at Hagrid's hut. Buckbeak was standing in the pumpkin patch, lazily searching for something. _I probably should have gone to Gryffindor…_

"Harry?" Sora said meekly after a minute of thought.

"Yeah, Sora?" replied Harry, nibbling a chocolate frog.

"Are you good in Potions?"

"Not nearly! I'm better in the Quidditch ring than in anything, y'know," Harry exclaimed, nearly choking on his candy.

Sora blinked, scratching his head. Quidditch sounded pretty foreign to him, and he never got that as a class. He grimaced, somewhat embarrassed to have to ask.

"Erm, Harry…what is Quidditch?"

Harry was stunned. How could someone, even someone new, never have heard of Quidditch?! The raven-haired boy had to remind himself that he at one time did not know what it was, either.

"Well, Sora, Quidditch is a sport. There is a quaffle, a snitch, bludgers…you have a Keeper, a Seeker, two Beaters…" he trailed off as Sora's face became more and more confused.

"Why don't I show you sometime? The Quidditch field is off over there, see?" Harry pointed to the left of the school.

Sora tilted his head, thinking of Draco. There wasn't a night that Draco didn't say utter something insulting about the notorious prat Harry Potter. Harry didn't seem like so much of a prat now, though. He seemed like a better friend than Draco was…

"Sure. How about tomorrow?" Sora asked hopefully.

"Well, actually, Ron and Hermione have already asked me to help them with something, but two days from now would be fine," Harry responded with a smile.

"Great! Thursday, then."

"Oh, and Sora? Don't tell Draco you're coming to see me. He won't like that much, and I don't want you to lose your friends."


End file.
